


Blood In The Water/Red Roadside

by stygianCreator (JynX245)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bad Ending, Blood and Injury, Car Accidents, Other, Referenced past abuse, Sadstuck, Serious Injuries, Suicide, all of the others make a short appearance, at the end, both of them die, it's just sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22424515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JynX245/pseuds/stygianCreator
Summary: A short angst I posted and am now posting here. Handle carefully, they both die so if you don't want angst better dip.
Relationships: John Egbert/Dave Strider
Kudos: 8





	Blood In The Water/Red Roadside

_ You would've never found the mess you've made... _

He remembers shouting, and he remembers something smashing on the ground, a crashing sound that fills his mind with dread.  
This is why he doesn't date people. You can only open yourself to others when you're open to being hurt, after all. Or to hurting others.  
He tries to steady himself, putting his head down and closing his eyes, removing his shades and taking deep, shaky breaths, running his fingers through his hair, humming tunelessly and without thought, trying to keep his panic down.

_...I hope it's worth all of the shame..._

His name is DAVE STRIDER. He's NINETEEN, and he's sitting on the curb in the dreary, grey weather, rain soaking into his hair as he stares at the ground.  
He just had a fight with his boyfriend of THREE YEARS, and he can't remember why he had it to begin with. His boyfriend is JOHN EGBERT, and most days things are perfect and calm between them.   
So why were they shouting? Why did that thing smash to the ground? What WAS that thing? He tries to think back, tries to remember the argument and what happened before he left.

_This is what it takes to breathe (we're getting up again)...._

_"You don't understand!"_  
_He had shouted, spreading his arms in exasperation. The raven-haired young man had gestured viciously around him to their apartment, explaining,_  
_"You can't do this Dave! I know you like being the one who does the work, but you can't FORCE me to stay at home, stay in one place while YOU work, support us- what am I supposed to do?! It's not fair to you or me!"_  
_"How about going to school?"_  
_Dave had retorted, his stress building up in his chest until it exploded in a single venomous statement,_  
_"That's what your father wanted, right?"_

_His words were a slap in the face to John, who's eyes had widened in shock and hurt that Dave would pull such a low card on him; his father had died when they were sixteen and it was a sore spot, of fucking course._  
_But he had still said it, and seeing John's face in the next second, the triumph from scoring a hit on him in their argument had drained to aching shame._  
_He had tried to amend his statement, apologize, anything,_

_"Wait, shit, John, I-"_

_"Dave?....get out. Just...get out."_

_The words had been torn from his mouth, blue eyes filling with tears as he wipes them off, turning away slightly,_

_"Just go away until you're done being an asshole. Just FUCK OFF."_

_"John, I'm-"_

_"YOU'RE NOT SORRY, SO DON'T SAY IT!"_

_He had burst out, slashing his hand through the air as though to silence Dave. It worked._  
_John had bitten his lip the way he always does when holding in emotions, tears dripping from his eyes, and he had said quietly, his words blunt and cold,_

_"You can't get out of everything with a smile and a sorry. I want you to THINK about what you did wrong here, HARD, and start trying harder to actually consider my emotions. Or we're over, Dave."_

_...this is what it takes to fake a smile and say...._

An ultimatum, essentially. John had finally had it with Dave's removed coldness, his inability to see past his own emotions. And, well...about time. Dave admits to himself, staring at the wall across from him, that he was a pretty awful boyfriend. Not like he was physically abusive or even emotionally; he just wasn't good.

Absent. He was working, he was at school, he wasn't emotionally present. He was drunk, sometimes.  
_I'm honestly fuckin surprised he hasn't just booted me immediately._

Dave stands, walking away from the building, his back to the door as he lights a cigarette and steps into the road.

....  
..  
.  
And the other young man's name is JOHN EGBERT. He too, is NINETEEN. And he is already regretting how harsh he had been with Dave.  
He knows the other grew up in an unstable environment, abusive even, where emotional things weren't in the picture. No crying. No sensitivity. Cool guys don't cry.  
Ice cold. Chilled as the arctic ocean. A polar bear in space. Dave would've had metaphors to describe how cool he was. Metaphors for days.

Thinking about it twists John's heart more than Dave's callous remark. In the moment, hurt by the other, he had spat out an ultimatum he didn't mean.  
He didn't want Dave to leave. He wanted him back with him, he wanted to hug him and hear the other apologize in his Texan drawl, to just listen to him draw the apology out in his usual fashion, piling on metaphor after metaphor to express how sorry he was.   
To hold him tightly and accept the apology, kiss and make up, and go eat ice cream together while mocking the weather here.

He looks out the window, seeing the other below, sitting. And then he watches, with a detached sense of horror, as he steps into the road as though to cross it at the crosswalk.  
_Oh no..._

He flings the window open, and shouts,

"DAVE!! GET OUT OF THE ROAD!"

His words are desperate, knowing the other won't see the truck barreling down the street. Not until it's too late, probably.   
John wishes he could say he warned him in time and did any good.  
But that would be a _lie_.

_...that everything's okay...._

But that would be a terrible lie.  
It would be a lie to say he didn't see Dave turn to look up, wondering what he said. It would be a lie to say he didn't watch wide eyed as Dave realized what he was being warned about, turning to his side to see the vehicle bearing down on him, fast, too fast.  
It would be a lie to say he didn't watch, tears pricking his eyes, as it collided with the other young man, spreading red in the road, didn't see how Dave crumpled to the ground.

Because he did see all that, and he is crying as he dials an ambulance, sobbing out the nature of his emergency. He's breaking down, his breath hiccuping gasps, glasses fogged as he manages out, "Truck...hit a person...my boyfriend..." and only barely held it together for the address. He can hear shouts from outside, and others probably dialing. He forces himself to look out the window, at the small crowd gathered around Dave's body.  
_No, he's not a body yet! He's...just unconscious....he's not dead, he's not dead..._

John's mind repeats this like a mantra, terrified of the possibility. Terrified of his last words to Dave, the last words the other heard.  
_"Or we're over."_

A thought begins to take root in his mind; what if Dave did die? What if it was all John's fault?....what....what if he knew the truck was coming? What if it was intentional?  
He had turned when he heard John.  
As though to say _"You win."_

Some of the crowd has dispersed, showing Dave's broken form, like a discarded toy flung to the side. There's so much red.  
John didn't know humans had that much blood in them.

He didn't know how much they could lose before they died either.  
The ambulance seemed to take a painfully long time to arrive, and by the time it does, John is out on the street, surrounded by the red. Is that the only color in the world? It seems to be, in his eyes. He's knelt down near Dave, hands shaking, as he watches the ever so faint rise and fall of Dave's chest.  
...  
He can see his bones.  
Is it a broken rib? He thinks so. His arm is twisted too, twisted in a way that no arm should ever bend, and John can see red there too, along with purple. Is that bruising? He doesn't know, god, he doesn't fucking know!

John can hear their voices and the sirens.

"Young man? Are you okay?"  
_No._  
He wants to say something, but his mouth is locked shut, throat dry, his chest heaving as his heart flutters.

"Is this your boyfriend? Are you the one who called?"  
_Yes._  
His world is beginning to blur, and some part of him realizes he's having a panic attack, but the rest doesn't, and oh GOD, what has he done?  
_Dave, I'm sorry Dave, please don't die. I didn't mean it. Please come back. Please. Please. Please._

"Someone get another stretcher!"  
"He's passing out!"  
"This one has lost a lot of blood, at least his rib hasn't gone too inwards..."

_Dave?...I'm so sorry._

He feels himself begin to fall, and a pair of strong arms catch him, holding his slender form close with a quiet reassurance and a loud call for help.

_....as long as I take blame._

He doesn't know how long it takes.  
He doesn't know how long he's gone.  
He doesn't know when it happens but he's standing on a bridge and staring at the water below.  
He doesn't know how to swim.

John closes his eyes and says a silent farewell. He's sure Dave didn't survive...right?...  
He doesn't feel himself hit the water. He just feels coldness envelope his form, leeching the life out of him.  
And red, he's bleeding, he can see it.  
He _hates_ it.  
Red used to be Dave's favorite color. He had loved it, because it reminded him of his lover. And now he hates it, because it reminds him of what he's lost because of his own words.

But he embraces it, knowing it's almost over.  
...  
..  
.  
But Dave wasn't dead. Just barely alive, clinging by a thread. He's one stubborn motherfucker, that Strider. And he hears the hushed voices when he opens his eyes,

"....jumped off a bridge..."  
"Isn't his name John?"  
"Didn't die on impact?"  
"Bled a lot..."  
"Comatose maybe?"  
"No, we're- we're losing him!"

And like that, Dave's heart shatters.  
It's not like he needs it any more. After all, what good is your heart when it just gets your boyfriend to kill himself?  
He closes his eyes, frustrated, painful sobs escaping him. They didn't realize he was awake, and he wasn't going to let it stay like this.  
He lets out his breath.  
Hopes his brother's cynical take on afterlife is false.  
And doesn't take another breath again.

A week later, their siblings and cousins stand over the graves. Jade refuses to cry, having done that enough, and Rose only allowed a few tears, knowing Dave wouldn't want her blubbering over him. Roxy leans against her, freely crying, though without a sound.  
Jane set the flowers down, blue on Dave's grave and red on John's, and Dirk wonders quietly, his hand held tightly by a sobbing Jake,

"...so who died first?"

None of them would ever know that it was John.  
None of them would know he died, not knowing Dave was almost alive.  
None of them would know Dave chose to die, not allowing himself to go on without him.  
_None of them would know that neither ever got to apologize._

**Author's Note:**

> The lyrics are from "Built For Blame" by Get Scared! Hope you enjoyed~


End file.
